Deck of Hearts
by ludwigsgirl97
Summary: In the world ruled by roles, where roles are ruled by what card The Magic puts on your chest, the barriers are breaking. Francis defies his grandfather and is exiled; Luwdig gives up his chance of being King of Spades for the Jack of Hearts, and Herecles fights for his mother's freedom as the Jack of Clubs. Most of the main characters, bad at summaries, sorry. May change to M


_All that's waiting is regret _

The lashes fell on the former Jack of Hearts, his hands above his head, which hung low in defeat as he cried out into the eternal spring of the Land of Hearts. His blond hair, long and once shining, was now dull and stained pink with fine, misted blood. Tears crusted dirt onto his once admired face, and his grandfather stood above him, the Ace, Romulus, a look of disapproval the only sign that he had ever cared for the man at all.  
"Have you anything to say, Francis, before you're exiled?" He asked, once the hundred lashings were done with. He raised his head, and smiled.  
"You'll never get away with what you've done to Akantha. You'll be stopped, father." He spat, clenching his fists in a show of mock bravery.  
"An hundred more lashes, and then we'll send you back to Folkheirt to see if he still wants his bastard." He said, walking away muttering about the blood that was on his favorite silk toga.  
Francis passed out shortly after, cursing the world around him. He was now without a purpose, and the magic would clean him up sooner or later. He was once the Jack of Hearts, in line to rule the quarter, and, if he had gone along with the plans, the Diamond quarter as well, ruled by Akantha, and her kin. He'd played with the Jack, Herecles, more times than he could remember, and then his grandfather had enslaved them all; he killed them, and instated his own kin in their places. And the magic hadn't stopped him. No the magic didn't care as long as it retained sacrifice, and every role was filled. But bastards that were banished, they were cleaned up. They tended to disappear.  
When he woke up, it was to the sound of birds chirping above him, but snow below. He was at the border into the country of Spades, those who had requested his help, on the condition that he not expect the same. He'd known that this would happen, and yet, it seemed much graver when he was faced with death in the immediate, rather than distant future. That's what he got for his mixed blood. Half German, and half Roman, he was a misfit no matter where he went, and now he would die for his treason. And the worst part is that he hadn't even made a difference. He tried to kill Romulus, so that Herecles would have a claim to the throne, if a small one. It would free the Diamond quarter, and keep the hot-tempered Romano from reaching it. That or the idiot brother of his, who was now replacing his from being the ten. Insignificant, often unfilled, but a role that the magic would leave be in most cases, if fed enough.  
He stood, his back still hurting in spite of how much faster those with roles healed as opposed to the fillers. The soldiers, the shop keepers, the ones that didn't have cards. Those who would be sacrificed to the magic. His sword was still at his hip, but he felt too weak to use it. So he simply wandered, choosing the warmer side of things, rather than the snow. He would be attacked on sight either way. With no card on his chest, he would be mistaken by his blond hair in the Hearts, an his voice in the Spades. He hoped to find his way to the castle of Clubs, where the ace, Yao, tried to stay away from conflicts. Not because he wasn't violent, but because he had to keep his own affairs in order, and didn't see any reason to get involved in others. He was rumored to be in need of a minor role, and Francis hoped that he would be allowed in for the sake of someone to look pretty, if nothing else. Perhaps something that his twins, Yong and Yang, would stop fighting about and share.  
"You shouldn't walk around Clubs territory with your hair so obvious. They'll kill you. If you want to blend in, head to Spades." A voice rang out, and a teenage boy in a green cloak jumped down from a tree, falling supernaturally slow. He must have been who the magic sent to take care of him.  
"Well if I go there, they'll kill me too." He said, drawing the blade for what it was worth.  
"Come on, then, I'm not here to kill you. You've got a role, after all." He said, frowning, and not reacting to the weapon at all.  
"What are you talking about?" He asked, knowing for certain that his role as Jack had been given to Feliciano.  
"You're a Joker now, you bloody twit. Can't you feel the magic yet?" He asked putting his hands on his hips and moving his cloak at the same time, revealing a black face with red expression smiling. "You're the tragic Joker, though I don't see what's so bad about your life. You were a prince, and now you're a magician. You grew up easy." He said, "And my father died so that you would have that role."  
"What? The magic doesn't kill for roles. It leaves them be." Francis said, looking down and realizing that he had a crying face of red and black, rather than the opposite. He'd never heard of anyone having more than one role before, much less being exiled only to have another role given right after. Especially one so important as the Joker.  
"The Magic didn't kill him, but he did die. Only a month ago, he was run through by one of the Hearts, and then you show up. I don't know if it's coincidence or fate, but you'll do him justice, understand?"  
"What's your name? I can't tell which quarter you came from." He said, following the stranger as he moved to walk away.  
"Arthur. And that's because I'm from one of these quarters." He answered, chanting a few words before he was floating back up into the tree, his cloak letting him blend in. Francis desperately climbed up after him, hopping from limb to limb as best he could, though some of them were more difficult than others. He had a feeling that the other's magic was helping him, since he'd not said any spells.  
"There are others? I've never heard of them."  
"They don't exist anymore, git. Your magic destroyed them. Where I came from there was only black and white, with kings of each. I was the white rook, my father the king. There was another where there was black and red, but no one was born with special distinction. You could earn it through battle, but loosing could have it taken from you. Those are the only ones I'd ever known until I was spirited away to this accursed place."  
"I'm sorry." He said, stopping when the other did.  
"For what?" He asked, wondering if the idiot had already screwed up.  
"For what's happened to you. It really is far more tragic than my story."  
"Don't. The magic chooses on the future, not the past. You'll probably die soon. I won't bother saving you." he said, not meeting blue eyes with his own forest green, nearly glowing with their brightness. He had to hate this man. He was destined to die, after all. No sense getting attached.

Ludwig sat in his throne to the left of his brother, sighing. He was laughing in that annoying, high-pitched cackle of his to his wife, Elizabeta, and neither of them were amused at his series of raunchy jokes. He wondered why their father and Ace had chosen the albino to be King, with him being only the Jack. He was clearly a better ruler, after all. Plus, the Jack's chair was far too small for him, and Gilbert was far to small for the King's throne.  
"Brother, no one thinks it's funny." Ludwig told the smaller elder, unable to take anymore.  
"Who's king, Ludi? Me. Which means that I'm better than you. My awesome jokes are always funny." He argued, his bird even remaining silent. It was a chicken cursed never to grow, so it remained minute, but learned to fly, in spite of the apparent impossibility associated.  
"The only thing better about you is your birth order. You know that as well as I do. You goof off, and leave me to do your job anyway." He said, wishing the battle would just hurry up. The yearly battle where the four quarters got an army and fought, usually with no winner, as a sacrifice to The Magic. Last year's had been brutal, with Hearts having Clubs forcibly under their control, but with it being force, many of their soldiers had fled, or surrendered, not really caring who won, because they would loose regardless.  
"Well, we'll see. When I take Romulus' head in The Battle, I'll prove that I deserved this throne more than you, won't I?" His tone of voice meant that the conversation was over. Being the King's brother, and the Jack, got him some sway, but he could still be hanged for treason, and his father didn't seem to care enough to stop the noose.  
So Ludwig sat the rest of the day in annoyed silence, and the Queen faked a smile at each of the bad jokes. She had to. She was only the Queen because Gilbert had chosen her from among the sacrifices, and if she displeased him, she would be given the painful rite of being The Ritual. Tortured to death as the magic fed on her life for the entire year until the next Battle. He sighed, wishing that his father had been smarter about his choice, rather than just presuming the eldest would be the best.

What am I gonna do? Feliciano thought, rocking back and forth on his new bed in the castle. He was the Jack now, in line for the throne, and completely and utterly terrified. As a Ten, he'd never had to join in the Battle. He wasn't able to grab glory, but he was safe and he could just paint and think like he loved to do. He'd had to clean the place up, but it was alright because he hated fighting. Now he would be expected to meet the scary Jack of Spades, Ludwig, on the field of battle and he knew that it would be a death sentence for him.  
And he missed his big brother. Francis may have been a bit of a pervert, and sometimes didn't seem to care, but whenever he went to the elder and asked for help it was always responded to. Even if he couldn't solve the problems he would spends weeks at a time trying, just because he hated to see those around him in pain. It was why he rebelled. Because he couldn't watch even those he had been raised to hate as enemies suffer. They were family now, after all, since their brother Antonio married in and became King of Clubs.  
He'd cried more than the blond as those lashes fell, wishing that his grandfather would at least look like he felt something as he tortured his own flesh and blood, leaving his back a blood-soaked mess of gooey flesh and exposed bone. Then he left him for the magic to take, knowing that it would do far worse to someone who was left without a role. He would become a Sacrifice, but he wouldn't even get the happiness of knowing he had saved someone's life, or the celebrations, because he wouldn't last the whole year, and another would still have to be given.  
Still, he practiced, his twin brother, Romano trying desperately to teach him before he was to bout with the Jack, so that he would at least be able to bring honor in his death. He wondered who it would be who replaced him when he was gone, now that they were so low on siblings. He hoped that it would be someone who was kind, and not one who would look down at those he was supposed to love and cause them pain. He'd seen enough of that for one day.


End file.
